


Are You Afraid of the Dark

by thatmountainhermit



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Internal Monologue, Juno has some definite PTSD, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e18 Juno Steel and the Final Resting Place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19752808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmountainhermit/pseuds/thatmountainhermit
Summary: Some things have changed since Juno came back to Hyperion City.





	Are You Afraid of the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything since last year but Penumbra has my heat and won't bloody let go. Enjoy Juno being a sad lady.
> 
> (15/2/2020) Do not repost. I give permission for AO3 to host my fic, any other sites or apps must ask my permission before hosting my content

Juno didn’t like many things. Heights, blood, and commitment were very high on the “do not like” list.

Recently, after losing his eye, he started not liking the dark. 

It wasn’t even the dark that he didn’t like. He was used to the dark - he’d had to do plenty of work under the cover of night. Hell, the dark was comforting at times. Safe. Being in the dark meant being unknown, and sometimes that was all he wanted. 

No, it wasn’t the general blanket of dark that he hated. He hated waking up in the dark. Being unable to immediately see his surroundings, still unfocused as the haze of dreams slowly lifted. He hated it. 

It reminded him of too much, these days. 

That cold, hard floor. Going to sleep with splitting pain in his eye. Waking up with a dull throbbing. A warm hand, the only comfort he had. The only comfort he could provide. 

Peter’s soft eyes. Long fingers pushing hair out of his eyes, or washing blood from his face. Those worried thoughts, spilling into Juno’s own. 

Sometimes, Juno would reach out, half asleep. Half dreaming that Peter was nearby, the smell of his cologne clawing out of the depths of his memories. His hand would reach into emptiness, a cold bed. His heart would skip a beat, then race faster and faster. Where had Peter gone? What had Miasma done to him?

And then Juno would open his singular eye, realise where he was, and take a breath. Remember that he had walked away from Peter, who was as safe as he could be, jumping from faraway planet to faraway planet, with Juno probably the last thing on his mind. 

He would take another breath, rub the sleep from his eye, and check the time.

Sometimes it would be too early to get up. He’d get up anyway. Pull on his jacket, sit on his couch, look out at the city. Sometimes he would make himself coffee. Sometimes he would pour himself a glass. Every time, he would try not to think about hypotheticals. Every time, he would fail. But the sounds of the traffic below him, the rattling pipes above him, and the faint hum of that half-broken street lamp just outside his apartment would remind him of where he was. 

Hyperion City. His home. His  _ only _ home. He was born here, he grew up here, and he really wouldn’t be surprised to die an unfortunate, untimely death in one of the many dark alleyways. It was everything he knew, loved, and hated, rolled into one giant mess of a city. 

Asking him to leave it would be like asking the Kanagawas to stop their shows, like asking Rita to stop watching god awful streams. 

Like asking Peter to stay.

So Juno would sip whatever was in his hand, rub his eye, and try to think about his current state of survival. Whatever stopped him from thinking about that too-tall man with a charming smile and ever-changing eyes that hid much more than anyone could expect. Whatever stopped him from thinking about Peter Nureyev. 


End file.
